


our love is a place of exile

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter Being Pretentious, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Religious Discussion, mentions of murder/cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Hannibal and Will stay at a cabin after the fall.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Prompt Table Challenge: Shippy Building





	our love is a place of exile

**Author's Note:**

> **gen prompt bingo:** push and pull  
>  **shippy building @ creativechallenges:** lips
> 
> i finished watching hannibal yesterday. i'm fucked up over it. 
> 
> enjoy!

They survive, and they find a place to stay at.

They can't really leave the States, at least not now, with the FBI looking desperately for the two of them, so they find a place that's about as shady as possible. The man doesn't give them a once over and lets them pay for a room, telling them they can stay there for as long as they want.

They still have injuries, old blood dried up on their clothes, a bullet pulled out of Hannibal's side hastily. Hannibal asks for a first-aid kit and gets to work on Will's, although there's a lot of them that would require a lot more than what they're given. They don't have much of a choice in regards to it all, not being able to go back to the lakehouse as it's, most likely, still with the FBI in there, waiting for them to show up.

They have nothing but what's on them.

Hannibal starts to tend to Will's wounds. He uses a mop and slowly cleans off the dried blood, bandages up everything that can be bandaged.

He hums quietly.

"Do you think," he starts, "that it was a message, a sign from God? For us to survive the fall you pushed us into?"

Will stares at him. "Of course," he says. "Go forth, my children, and become the murder husbands Freddie Lounds called you." He's being sarcastic, of course, but Hannibal probably does think it is something along those lines. His sense of God is fucked up in every way conceivable, and in some ways that are not conceivable to him.

Hannibal chuckles. "We already have become murderers," he says. "Well, I did a long time ago. You…"

"It's nearing five years," Will says. "Five years since I killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs."

Hannibal leans in to touch one of the bigger injuries, by his throat. It barely missed his jugular— it's a wonder that he is alive. He smiles. "And you went three years without killing a single soul. How did it feel, Will? To kill the Great Red Dragon with me?"

He pauses for a long time, looks off at the distance. He remembers only bits and pieces of the fight, the adrenaline coursing through his veins too much to recall all of it in detail. He does recall when Hannibal bit a good chunk of his throat off, though, Dolarhyde's blood going  _ everywhere. _ Did Hannibal chew and swallow? He probably did.

He thinks back to Bedelia agreeing that Hannibal is in love with him.

"It was beautiful," he says. It  _ felt _ beautiful, from start to finish. Like it was fate— a formidable thing, to have a fate so intertwined with Hannibal Lecter—  _ his _ fate to kill the Red Dragon and pull both of them down the cliff.

"It's all I ever wanted for us," Hannibal tells him. He looks great like this, he thinks dejectedly, dried blood and injured and with blood splattered over his blond-gray hair. 

"For us to kill together?" he asks, softly.

Hannibal nods, blue eyes glancing up at him, staring into him, boring into him. Like he knows all of him, knows him more than anyone else ever did or ever will. His wife— his wife didn't even come close to knowing him as well as Hannibal does. 

They know each other. They have blurred.

"Bedelia," Will starts, slowly. "Bedelia told me you were in love with me."

Hannibal doesn't let out his surprise, not physically. He remains as stoic as he can, but he can feel his hands twitch against his bandages.

"Are you?"

He pauses. "Yes." He grabs at his shoulder, like he will pull away. He doesn't. "Are you?"

"Yes," he nods.

There's a knot in his stomach that has been sitting there for years upon years. He doesn't know how long, exactly, but he knows that at the very most it all started when he killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs. And right now, when he says he loves Hannibal, when he admits he loves Hannibal, it unfurls into an ugly thing known as desire. A desire synonymous with exile from the rest of the world.

The knot inside Will unfurls, and he pulls Hannibal into a kiss.

Everything makes sense in that dirty room in the cabin as he kisses Hannibal Lecter.

When they pull away from each other, they're both slightly out of breath. And Hannibal smiles sincerely, a wide grin that makes him shudder.

"I love you, Will," he says.

He lets out a quiet whimper as he pulls him onto another kiss.

Maybe it was a sign for God. Maybe it was His own way to make them get the resolution they've both been longing for. The way for Hannibal to get all he's ever wanted for him and Will.

It's a formidable thing, fate. And he'll take his fate with Hannibal any day, any time, whenever he can get it.


End file.
